Kate,

I forget who it was that said life’s just one tragedy after the other but they were too bloody right for their own good and ought to have been taken out back and shot. It took your letter some time to reach me and admittedly it took me some time to respond. It's been hectic down under. First came the fires, then the car engine packed in, then finally Brucie went on a good ol’ two day walk-about through the marshlands giving me a right scare. He keeps doing that. I don’t know what his deal is. It’s as if he suddenly decides to get as far away from me as he possibly can for no rational reason. Ah well, probably just his age setting in. He's ten next month.

It feels like it’s been years since I’ve stood outside what’s left of this sun beaten post office. I think I’m in need of a beer or two.

On top of everything else going on, I, an experienced tracker with fourteen years under my belt, can’t seem to find a single track. Nada; no animals, no Abominables, there’s barely a bloody insect in sight. I can't make heads or tails of it. It’s as if the Abominables took a vote, decided to hell with it, hunted the entire center of Australia to extinction then stepped through a portal to another realm. I spent four months out there Kate, and I’m here to tell you I was the only living soul out there. Granted, half the continent’s been on fire as of late but nonetheless, something, somewhere, surely survived.

Palau, the island’s name was Palau. Looking back, we were certainly fools. It’s as that prick said, just one tragedy after the other I'm afraid.

Had a chat with old mate Brucie. He reckons there’s no hard feelings; says there never was, not when things got hard, not when things got complicated and not even when a certain someone threw an unopened bottle of cologne across the room as hard as they possibly could. Says he misses you.

- Kurt

Kaitlin,

I’m well thanks, appreciate you asking. Always a pleasure to hear from a fellow hunter. Helps me keep track of who is and who isn't still breathing out there. I dare say I’ve been fortunate enough to have my fifth official sighting which was, and forgive me for rubbing it in, my best yet. Positioning myself well I sat in wait for the Mapinguari I was expecting. Rustling through the jungle he appeared, majestic and glorious. Placing his hand through a tree’s trunk the way one parts a waterfall to retrieve from it's core what could best be described as an ancient weapon the creature vanished. I dare say it’s concerning to witness a creature whose skin could only be punctured by those long extinct equip a large weapon intended for warfare. Perhaps there is, amongst the Mapinguari ranks, a political struggle underway?

Although I remain unconvinced that what you’ve caught glimpse of all the way up there is in fact a Yeti, I do confess myself intrigued. There seems to be, on a global scale, strange occurrences underway. Most animals, as I’m sure you know, possess an internal calendar/clock that they're in tune with. Although humans are mesmerised by this ability whenever we catch sight of a turtle laying eggs on a moonlit beach or a flock of ducks migrating south for the winter, odds are we too possess it. What I’m trying to convey to you is that there is indeed a universal language beneath the world’s surface even if we're numb to it. I can only assume given the specifics you outlined previously that the Abominables you’ve been monitoring annually are privy to said language.

Something is indeed stirring. A changing of the guard, a flipping of the board, for all we know a whole new era is afoot. All we need to do now is sit back and wait for a bat-crazed Eric Winters theory to arrive via Apache Helicopter and we’ll know for sure that we're on schedule for the apocalypse.

I’m terribly sorry to hear about your father, Kate. I always liked the man, sober or not. For all the poor habits he happened to carry he always carried a generous heart. I know you’d rather have him back in your life than have all the money in the world but look on the bright side, kiddo, after all his labor the man is finally allowed to rest. You’ll likely never have to wait on any tables again. So strap on your boots, fill up a hydration pack and get to hunting because this job is frustrating and challenging and incredibly difficult to convey to those you meet but I’ll be damned if it isn’t the most rewarding thing that you or anyone else will ever do.

With the warmest of regards and the sincerest of condolences,

- Nigel

Eric,

I know you’ll struggle to believe this but it truly is good to hear from you, my friend. In spite of all that was once said, I can’t help but consider you a dear friend and colleague of whom I’ve still much to learn from.

I too have come across numerous abnormalities, from an Abominable retrieving from a tree’s center a memento best described as an ancient weapon to a systematic howling that echoes through the jungle most nights. It’s as though the animals of the amazon are attempting to wane away the moonlight.

I’ve been in contact with both Kurtis and Kaitlin and can confirm that something global is happening. That said, I’d like to invite you to consider the possibility that the Abominables aren’t so much the cause of said change but are simply more aware of it. Could it be that while we’re busy speculating on their change in behavior- they’re busy speculating on something else entirely? Whether that be the stars above or the crevices below; you know as well as I do that Abominable’s aren’t thrivers, Eric. They’re survivors. Survivors whose attempts to communicate are more likely to be defensive than offensive.

That said, I shall take your recommendation under due consideration and report back should any further bizarre behavior unfold. I truly hope that outside of this profession that you are well and have in life, Eric, found meaning.

Write to Kaitlin, Eric. Don’t write at her, write to her. She’s a clever girl.

Your friend,

- Nigel

Eric,

Can’t say it’s a pleasure. Feels like every time I hear from you the night that follows is hardfought to sleep through. Last we spoke the waterfalls in New Zealand were soon to expel a noxious gas. The time before that you attempted to persuade me that any women older than myself without children was likely to be sterile on account of the world’s water supply. Now you write to inform us of a synchronized Abominable attack? Can’t say I’m surprised.

Dismissing the tonality and insinuations of your letter I am on this rare and momentous occasion inclined to agree. Something is happening, Eric, something big. You once told me that I’m the best tracker you’ve ever known and so I need you to hear me when I say that I haven’t found so much as an upturned twig for months. At first I assumed it was on account of the fires but as I delved further and further into the outback evidence of any wildlife became scarcer. From the beaches, to the red dust bungles, to the marshlands that stretch on forever: I can’t find a thing. It’s as if all the critters and creatures native to the land vanished overnight; probably through the same portal your Yeti did.

Your comments in regards to astronomy have me intrigued. The Mayans, the Sumerians and the Anunnakis used their advanced knowledge of astronomy to deduce planetary shifts. I wonder, if perhaps the Abominable’s are able to see something we can’t?

I read a study once about a primate that existed just prior to the Cretaceous period. This primate, small but clever, wiped out countless predators by gathering in groups and strategizing through the use of sticks and stones. Escaping the jaws of the most ferocious predators, these tiny primates, clever and agile, in the end came to conquer the jungle.

I’m open to corresponding further so as to keep one another in the know so long as you keep that negative ion cloud above your head at bay. Something is happening, Eric and we’d be silly not to remain in touch with one another until we know what.

- Kurtis

Eric,

For what it’s worth- you needn’t persuade us of anything. Just because you scare the shit out of us every now and then doesn’t mean that we don’t believe you and just because you and Kurt got into a fist fight half a decade ago over what I’m pretty sure was a turkey sub doesn’t mean you can’t be civil. Something is happening and until we figure out what exactly I think you two need to put in a little more effort. You were once close, remember?

If what you are saying is accurate I suggest exercising extreme caution. Your financial armor won’t spare you the wrath of an Abominable if a fraction of your theory proves accurate. I’m sure by now Kurt’s informed you of the wildlife irregularities in Australia. Apparently the entire continent packed up and left without so much as a trace. I’m confident if he were to run into a pile of dingo corpses yours would be the first letter he writes, Eric.

There’s one last thing I’d like to discuss with you, but I’m a little afraid to go down the rabbit hole… Before we do so would you mind writing me back and describing, in detail, how it is that you theorize the Yetis traveled to and from the Himalayas all those centuries ago? I remember overhearing you explain it to Nigel what seems like a decade ago.

You’re no good to the world dead, Eric.

- Kate

Kate,

Five spice girls and a didgeridoo walk into a bar. Four stumble out leaving the sober one to carry it. Which Spice Girl remained sober? Take a minute to think about it. You’re plenty clever- you’ll narrow it down in no time. Forgive me, I’ve had a beer, or two, or ten.

How’s everything your way? Two and a half weeks till your Northern-Woods-Yeti surfaces… Exciting! Perhaps next year Brucie and I shall tag along and the three of us will solve this one together? Speaking of which, guess how many slices of banoffee pie old mate Brucie had last night? Yep. You guessed it. The whole bloody thing. Cost me twenty seven bucks and thirty minutes in queue and the bloody mongrel damn near swallowed it whole! Ah well, at least he hasn’t wandered off in a while.

Kate, on the off chance you uncover the root cause of this mysterious meeting between the Sasquatch King and the Northern-Woods-Yeti… be extremely careful. No sighting is worth your life, eye contact or otherwise… it just isn’t.

I’ll try to swing your way next May but no promises, little lady.

- Kurt

To Kate,

Wildlife returns. Well, at least enough for me to confirm that the entire continent hasn’t gone extinct. What caused all matter of life to crawl into the nearest hole and lay perfectly still for months on end: beyond my understanding. Bit by bit however, life returns. The fact that I can’t tell whether they were hiding from something or simply circling the fires, a confession no tracker worth the weight of his compass should confess, leads me to think that old Brucie isn’t the only one showing his age, huh?

More or less back to normal on my end I think it’s high time I downed a cold one, dug my heels in and sniffed out the Yowies. That third official sighting I’ve been dreaming of for years now can’t be far. I caught the tail end of that brawl a couple years back but there’s something special about catching a glimpse into their eyes. The shape, size and glow; catching eye contact with an Abominable is like stepping out of this reality into another. It’s heroine from the first hit. If only there was a way to step back...

Perhaps the stirring we’re all fretting over has come and gone? Perhaps whatever it was that was going to happen has already occurred. It rattled the Abominables, spooked the wildlife and all the while our lowly human senses barely registered a blip. Life’s funny like that. Sometimes we get all worked up over something coming that never comes. Remember that history final we never ended up taking because the entire campus flooded? We crammed six weeks of studying into six days. That must have been the longest period throughout the course of our thirteen month and twenty two day relationship that we didn’t rip one another’s clothes off. And yeah, I was counting too.

Brucie went walk about again. Did his best to get as far as he could. Poor bugger only got about fifteen minutes away by car. The weird thing is once he spots me he turns right around as though relieved to be caught; gives up and tags along happily like a willing prisoner of war. Can’t make heads or tails of it. That said, we did manage to have a good old fashioned heart-to-heart on the drive back into town and Brucie says he’s excited to see you next year. Says it’s long overdue. Says that even though he hides it well- he still loves you somewhere deep down, and likely always will. Says that’s probably why until your father passed that he never wrote you, never called and never dared to mutter your name aloud.

Best of luck with the Northern-Woods-Yeti and the Sasquatch King. I’ll be jealous if you land your third sighting before I do! Don’t you dare do something silly and get yourself killed, Kaitlin Middles. You and I have unfinished business.

- Kurtis Jones

Kurtis I’m shaking,

My entire body is shaking. I’m like a rabbit, just been chased by a fox. Or a fox, just been chased by a mountain lion. Or maybe I’m just a person, petty and self centered, just been held by an angel. I don’t know.

I don’t even know what it is I don’t know, Kurtis Jones. Just be here. Please. Be here now when it matters most, when I’m broken and crumbling and can barely move an inch.

He’s gone yet memories remain. They hurt, Kurtis. Especially the good ones. There wasn’t a single selfish bone in his body, Kurtis. There was nobody more generous. He wanted for no material possessions and he gave and he gave and he gave until he had nothing left to give. The more I think of him, the more I remember what it was like to be in his presence. The tremble of his voice, the musk of his shirt; cheap cologne covering up even cheaper whiskey. His hands, no matter how many times washed, remained pitch black. It was the drinking, Kurt. The drink finished what the coal mine started and all the while we all did our best to look the other way, enabling him. Even Nigel couldn’t shake him of it and there’s nothing that man can’t do. The coal mine didn’t rob him of his life, Kurtis, and nor did it rob me of a childhood. It was the drink, one after the other, until only memories remain. He’s been gone a year and I already miss him more than I know what to do with.

What did we do to deserve this life, Kurtis Jones- where have we all gone wrong?

Talk me off the ledge. Talk me out of my head. Talk me back to safety?
I saw the Sasquatch King Kurtis, I saw him with my own two eyes. The two of them deciding the fate of the world together, I drew too near for comfort, angering the king. The being of light however, with eyes so kind they hurt to look at, wrapped itself around me. Trembling, shaking and pissing myself the being’s warm embrace surrounded me while I cried for what felt like an eternity with eyes tightly shut. When I finally opened them, it was all over. The lights, the critters, the king and the throne. All gone. There I stood alone in the woods. As though I’d been teleported from one location to another.

When the shaking subsides I’ll head for the nearest reception. Call me Kurtis Jones, call me the second you can. I’ll be waiting.

- Kaitlin Middles

xoxo